


Five Things the Third Member of the Darwin Family Saw

by Gleaming_Spires (cuppaktea)



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types, History Boys - Bennett
Genre: M/M, Modern Setting, crack and fluff, fluff and nonsense, isolation stupidity, it's too soon to tell which, the boys are old, this is either keeping me sane or encouraging my descent into madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuppaktea/pseuds/Gleaming_Spires
Summary: I'm not sure this deserves a summary, it's just crack and fluff on toast (but without toast)
Relationships: David Posner/Donald Scripps, Stuart Dakin/Tom Irwin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're all staying well lovelies
> 
> I'm back with more of this bullshit. If you have any cracky ideas do let me know in the comments as I am loving running with stupid stuff rn but I have no original thoughts <3

The smells are strange as they travel down the long corridor, it’s bright too, even through the fabric of the jacket. He nuzzles deeper towards the warmth of the body that reminds him of his mother, learning the smell of this new family member.

The friendly human dips his face under the jacket and speaks to him, his long vowels soft over the metallic squeaks and rattles and chatter around them.

“OK, remember it’s a surprise so keep quiet” He whispers, before covering him back up and clearing his throat. He jumps at a loud knock and suddenly they’re in a quieter room, where the light feels more natural. He wriggles about in curiosity and feels a shiver of suppressed laughter from the human’s ribs.

“Hey.”

“Hi” Another voice responds, deep and groggy but there’s a smile in there somewhere.

“I brought you something.”

“What is it?”

“You know how you’ve always wanted a dog….. well”

A hand reaches in and scoops him out from his warm, dark hiding place and into the sunlight. He lands into someone’s lap with a bump.

Blinking, he peers up into the tired bespectacled face of a slim, elderly man and meows a hello.

“Happy birthday” grins the original human, who is standing beside them, his teeth bared slightly frighteningly. 

“Er, Stuart. I don’t know how to tell you this, but that’s a cat.”

“I know. Do you like him?”

“I – well it’s …a lovely… thought”

Hesitantly, long fingers stroke his luxuriant long fur. He purrs encouragement and closes his eyes in pleasure.

“It's like a dog, but less labour intensive, and it won't pee on the floor." Stuart ignores the nearby chair and perches on the bed beside them. "What do you want to call him?”

“Rover, obviously.”

“Look, I thought about it, I really did, but we’ve been through this. What if it pulled you over? Especially now”

“Thanks for reminding me, I’m back in the chair for six months”

The words are coloured by pain and bitterness. He snuggles closer, hoping his purring will soothe, as his mother’s purr always soothed him and his siblings.

The fingers tickle behind his ear in thanks and he drifts into a doze, letting their voices slide over him.

“I still wanted a grand gesture. It just wasn’t practical and they were all horrible yappy things anyway”

A familiar hand joins in, brushing across his fur. He’d spent all last night with this human: Stuart, apparently.

“You’re not a dog person, I get it”

“It’s just such a big commitment and with you being laid up - ”

“I know, I know, it’s you who’d be doing the work, it’s not fair of me.”

“I was going to say a dog might be too boisterous and put back your recovery!”

“I’m sorry, ignore me, I’m being horrible, I just hate this. Not the cat - I quite like that”

“Good." He reaches out to pet the other human "It’s just shit timing that’s all, you’ll be back to normal in no time. Better than - the doctor reckoned you’ll feel five years younger once you’re healed up” 

“…And back to learning to walk again, and back to being drip fed painkillers”

“Serves you right for saving my life all those years ago, doesn’t it?”

“Don't flatter me. You wouldn’t have fallen off.”

“I might have”

“Anyway this isn’t the motorbike, this is age”

“Age and a broken spine. From a motorbike”

Stuart leans in and they rest their faces together over his purring form, sharing sloppy, undignified human kisses.

“You can’t bring that filthy animal in here! This is a hospital, not a petting zoo!”

The three of them startle at the formidable female voice. The humans recover quickly and seem to find it funny, but he is terrified enough to run up a handy curtain.

Stuart stands, unhooks his claws and returns him to the sanctuary of the jacket, where he shrieks his fear and anger into an armpit.

“I’m sorry, it’s his birthday. He's sixty” He sounds very contrite. The kitten risks peeking out through the zip.

Her gaze roves over the dark eyes, salt and pepper hair and lean body of Stuart, which all seem to please her, the anger melting as she adjusts her hair and smiles. A strange reaction when she was unmoved by his own round blue eyes and silky fur - he knows how beautiful he is, everyone always remarks on it.

“Sorry sister," The birthday human's voice is weak from laughing. "This is my husband, Stuart.”

These smiling words sour her mood and her face falls back into a frown.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave”

“It’s a present” Stuart tries, reaching back inside the jacket and thrusting him into her angry red face. He hisses and tries to slither free.

“Ow! Ow! Calm down”

“Out!”

“You'd better go”

“Alright. Happy birthday, gorgeous”

Odd, his nickname is Gorgeous, too.


	2. Chapter 2

They are still patiently awaiting the return of Tom, the husband from the hospital. He knows this because, during their solitary evenings, Stuart has told him all about Tom and how good everything will be once he’s back. The Cat is perhaps waiting more patiently than Stuart, who does a great deal of sighing and talks to a lot of people on his phone, most of whom soon tell him to leave them be. The upside of this is that Stuart has a lot of time for him. He's enjoying being the centre of attention, despite the worry that rolls off Stuart in deep blue waves, but isn't allowed to accompany Stuart back to the hospital for some reason, so he naps during the day.

They don’t have a shortage of visitors in his new home, either, all of whom express a pleasing level of adoration.

Today's visitors cheer up Stuart more than the rest, melting the blue worry into a bouncy excitement as soon as the bell rings.

"Oooooh, your extended family is here!" Stuart interrupts his game of attacking his feet to lift him up and they bound to the door together. He is fond of these people already, he decides.

“This is Pos” Stuart tells him, holding him up under his armpits to show him their friend as soon as the front door opens.

“And this is Scripps. He’s pretending not to be impressed but he looooves you already” Stuart kisses this messages against the top of his head.

He is floated closer and his nose is bumped softly against Scripps’.

They are happy, he can tell, although they pretend not to be.

“Oh Jesus, he’s gone mad already”

“Can we get in the door, Dakin?

“What are you doing to that poor animal?”

“He’s a Ragdoll. They like it, the internet says so” Stuart wiggles him to and fro in the air.

“Yeah, he looks like he’s enjoying it” Pos takes him from Stuart and holds him gently in his arms, where he settles much more comfortably.

These two are husbands, apparently, like his family, and he can smell the traces of their own cat on their clothes. Decent sorts, clearly.

The humans prepare horrid smelling drinks for themselves and sit down to make a fuss of him. It’s much appreciated.

He lies back in Pos' arms where he is allowed to bat at the tantalising strings on his hoodie until he falls asleep.

“What’s his name?” 

“The Cat”

“You can’t just call him the cat” drawls Scripps.

“Not ‘the cat’, The Cat. Don’t knock it, that took hours of negotiation”

“You took advantage because Tom’s spaced, I bet.”

“Advantage nothing, he’s painful and thus a right grump. I wanted to call him Bond”

Personally he doesn’t see anything wrong with his name, it is double-barrelled and thus distinguished.

“Poor Tom”

“Poor me, he’s either fucking vile, off his tits or unconscious. Every day I run the hideous gauntlet of being snapped at, making him cry because I was unkind enough to say I slept well, have him singing that he’s a little teapot at me, or just sitting there for an hour while he sleeps – and then potentially be accused of not visiting. And I got him a cat”

“Yeah… got _him_ a cat. And he believes that, does he?”

“I took along a book this morning in case he was asleep and he yelled at me for being a bastard until the doctor threw me out for causing a disturbance”

“You should have rescued” Pos coos into The Cat’s face “Pet shops are cruel. He’ll be emotionally unstable”

“He’ll fit right in here then” Scripps mutters.

“What was that?”

“Nothing” Scripps chortles and scratches The Cat’s ears.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom’s lap is the perfect place to sit of an afternoon, particularly when he’s in the wheelchair and The Cat can continue snoozing even if he moves. He loves the wheelchair, despite Tom’s hatred of it.

He flatters himself that he helps too, when the pain is bad. The Cat purrs and rests on his human’s injured leg, soothing the pain with gentle vibration and steady warmth. Sometimes he adds in a gentle massage with his front paws.

That is, until Stuart comes and disturbs him - always kindly, with a scratch under the chin or the rustle of a food pouch, but always so that he can take his place on Tom’s lap. The Cat sometimes worries that he’ll be too heavy (or that he can’t purr and doesn’t massage), but Tom never seems to mind.


	4. Chapter 4

A distracted kick jolts him from his sleep. He shuffles out of the way of the two pairs of feet and resettles, shooting a disapproving look towards the head of the bed.

He’s just laid his head on his paws again when the duvet is pulled out from under him, leaving him sprawled in an undignified heap on the bare mattress. Well really!

Giving a meow of protest he wanders over the lumpy surface of the bed to see what can be so important as to disturb his post-dinner-pre-supper-nap.

This. _Again_. He doesn’t know what gets into his humans sometimes.

_Rough and Tumble_ , he tries to convey in a look as he peers over a bare shoulder, _is not for the bed_. The surface under his paws shakes with laughter.

“Bloody Cat”

“I told you to shut the door”

“He doesn’t care”

“I care!”

“Put him out then…. Fine, I will. You’ll have to get off me”

There is an alarming shifting of the landscape before Stuart emerges, tousle haired and flushed.

He chirps a hello as he is lifted up, and nuzzles the strangely furless chest anticipating a cuddle. Instead, he finds himself carried outside and unceremoniously dumped in the hall. He meows again in protest as the bedroom door shuts in his face, but the humans appear not to notice over their laughter, as they resume their disruptive activity. He stalks off in search of a sunspot and rests his paws over his ears to block out the bumps, bangs and moans from the bedroom.

 _Humans_ , he thinks - not for the first time, _are weird._


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner time has been and gone, but the environment in the kitchen isn’t conducive to digestion right now, so he waits under the hall table, tail tucked against his body to safeguard it against anybody accidentally catching it underfoot on their occasional stomps in and out of the room.

“For fuck’s sake, why are you always like this?!”

And, honestly, Stuart should know better. This is hardly a line of questioning to pursue if they want to end this argument and return the kitchen to a state of peace and digestive harmony - and he can't see why they wouldn't want this, they must, after all, have noticed his dinner congealing in the corner and be concerned.

“Like what exactly?”

“Why is it always about you?”

Disgustedly, he washes a paw and tries to ignore his growling stomach and the smell of his Sheba pouch scant metres away. Just as well too, as a walking stick clumps down next to his bowl a second later.

“Oh, right. Yeah, don’t let me forget all the things wrong with me! It’s a wonder you could stick living through such a fucking nightmare for the past twenty five years”

“…are you trying to prove my point? It’s got nothing to do with you! I just cannot bear another family gathering so soon after the last one!”

“By the last one, I take it you mean my uncle’s funeral?”

“They were all there, weren’t they?”

“You are unbelievable! I suppose that’s selfish too, asking for some fucking support from you?”

“Support isn’t a problem. This is pure masochism and I won’t stand for it. Why do you even want to do it anyway?”

Sighing, he settles into a comfortable crouch to wait out this loud and uncultured display.

“I have told you why”

“No, you’ve said “it would be nice”, which is ridiculous. Biscuits are nice, this is a fucking disaster in slow motion”

“I’m sorry my family are so unbearable to you”

“Nobody said that it was just your family who are unbearable! And last time I checked you complained as bitterly as me about them all, so once again I’m asking: why?”

There is nothing but the sound of heavy breathing, and he lives in hope that they may be nearing the end of this nonsense.

“We – didn’t have a wedding”

Ah, finally some hush! He doubts that Stuart's pathetic human ears even caught this confession.

Sure enough, Tom has to repeat it and Stuart blinks his confusion.

“Yes, we did. Remember? Registry office, big bit of paper to sign, nice lady in an ugly frock married us off…”

“No, we got married. And my sixtieth birthday party had to be cancelled because I was in the hospital. I thought it might be nice to … I don’t know, finally celebrate us”

He creeps out, warily, keeping low to the ground, the smell of his neglected dinner growing stronger with every step.

“Not nice, you’re right: Important. It's important to me. I want to celebrate us”

Skirting the wall into the kitchen he sees his humans cuddled up. They’re still talking, but at an acceptable volume, into each other’s hair. He thanks Bastet that they’ve remembered to be civilised and finally tucks into his food with a growl.

“We will, but what about a celebration we will enjoy? Twenty five years deserves something special, but not an awful party we’ll both hate”

“What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

“We can’t just go away – what about The Cat?”

“Fuck The Cat”

Charming.

Smiling and kissing their gross human kisses, they retreat into the bedroom. His schedule’s all out of whack now anyway, so it isn’t such a disaster that naptime would appear to be cancelled, yet again.

The things he has to put up with.


End file.
